behind the statue of Mars, there is a little gate which has all the
appearance of being condemned, because no one uses it; it happens that I
still have the key to this gate, which opens into the fields. That is
the way that I get into the garden; and from the garden it is not
difficult to come here by following the main path, then the terrace; and
without entering by the door you opened, one can go through the cellars
and up to the ground floor."
"I see that you know the château perfectly, better, I am inclined to
think, than the man who has bought it."
"In my childhood I have so often run through these corridors, these
secret passages! In those days I was romantic, too. This Gothic château
seemed to me well suited to the marvelous adventures of the days of
chivalry; and I should have been overjoyed to meet a phantom in the
vaults of this tower; but I never had that pleasure."
"But you must have expected to be seen, walking about with a light
through these rooms?"
"There have been only two nights that I have lighted this little lantern
with my flint and steel; I supposed that everybody in the château was
asleep, and that they would not see the light in this tower. I could not
resist the desire to see, to examine once more various things which I
formerly--which were used long ago by the persons who lived in this
château; and as there is not always a moon, you will agree that it would
have been rather difficult to have gratified my curiosity without a
light."
"Do you know that if anyone but myself had fallen in with you by night,
you would have been arrested, imprisoned perhaps?"
"When one has reached the point where I am, what more has one to fear?
Besides, I knew very well that no one in this château, except you and
your friend, would be tempted to come to this tower at night; and
indeed, if I had chosen to drive them all from the château, I should
only have had to walk in the direction of the inhabited apartments at
night with a sheet over my head; I will answer for it that the present
owner would have been the first to take flight; but, I say again, I have
never intended to frighten anybody, or to take anything from anybody; if
I did frighten the old gardener once, I did it unintentionally; I did
not expect to meet him in the garden so late."
"I believe you," said Alfred. "But let us come to what concerns me; you
say that it is I whom you came here to see to-night. What have you to
say to me? Speak."
The stranger’s features lost the expression which his memories of the
past had seemed to inspire, and resumed that which they ordinarily wore.
"Yes," he replied, smiling sarcastically, "let us come to that subject;
the present should be more important than all that has gone by, and can
never return. It seems that, when you gave up to your friend the woman
who had fascinated you, you altogether renounced the conquest of the
little goatherd, as you no longer go to see her."
"What does it matter to you? Do I owe you an account of my sentiments?
If you desire to speak to me with the purpose of renewing your hateful
proposals, you are wasting your time; and I forbid you----"
"La! la! calm yourself, monsieur le baron! Oh! I have no desire to argue
with you; but I should be very glad to convince you that I was not
mistaken in the judgment I expressed concerning the girl whose innocence
you feared to sully. A poor Agnes! who desires to induce your friend to
marry her! I knew that there was something underneath it all."
"What more do you know about Isaure? Explain yourself."
"Her friend has arrived."
"Her friend?"
"Yes; or, at all events, the man who takes care of her, call him what
you please. I was very certain, for my own part, that these dull-witted
peasants could not have taught the girl the pretty manners which
fascinated you. And then, the education which she has received, her
marked ease of manner,--all that could come only from a man who loves
her, and who, doubtless from jealousy, keeps her concealed among these
mountains, where he hopes his treasure will not be discovered. Well, I
tell you again, that man arrived this evening."
"Did you see him at Isaure’s house?"
"At her house? Oh, no! He is prudent; he does not go to the girl’s
house; he is doubtless afraid of compromising her or of meeting people
there; and from the precautions which this mysterious personage takes,
it is easy to judge that he is terribly afraid of being seen."
"Go on."
"Well, the White House is the place where they meet."
"The White House?"
"Yes; I do not know whether this stranger is the owner; but what is
certain is that he has the keys. He evidently arrived there this
evening, and soon a little light shone at one of the windows of the
house. Instantly the girl, who had been on the watch for some time,
hurriedly left her cottage, and ran at full speed to the White House; a
man, whom I saw very plainly, for I was hidden near by, opened the door,
and the girl went in. What they did then, I cannot tell you precisely;
but, not for a full hour did the door open again, and the young girl
came out and returned to her own house, after an affectionate parting
from the man she left behind. So all the mystery is cleared up! Now we
know the perfectly natural cause of that which frightens the
mountaineers in the neighborhood! We know, in short, why the girl was
the only one who had no fear of the White House! It is almost always so;
a lot of noise for nothing; marvelous happenings, which are nothing out
of the common when examined at close quarters."
Alfred had listened attentively to the vagabond. He had much difficulty
in believing that Isaure, who had seemed so artless and frank, could
have deceived them to that extent.
"Are you perfectly certain of all you have told me?" he said at last,
gazing fixedly at the man before him.
"If you don’t believe me, assure yourself of it. It is not probable that
the man I saw has come into this part of the country for a single day.
Your eyes will satisfy you that I have told you the truth; and you will
regret perhaps that you did not follow my advice; you will be sorry that
you stood on so much ceremony with a little sly-boots who laughed at you
and your friend; but, I say again that, whenever you please, it will be
easy enough to make up for lost time."
As he spoke, the stranger took his little lantern; and, leaving the room
by a secret door, he disappeared before Alfred, who was lost in thought,
had noticed his absence. Not till some minutes later did young De
Marcey, happening to look up, discover that he was alone in the tower.
Then he reflected that the people in the château must be surprised, and
perhaps anxious, at his non-return. He would have been glad to talk
further with the stranger, and especially to forbid him to come again at
night to the château; but the man was no longer there, and Alfred
decided to leave the tower.
The whole party was assembled in Cornélie’s apartment; the ladies were
anxious; Edouard desired to go in search of Alfred, Monsieur Férulus
quoted divers authors who denied the existence of ghosts, and Robineau
still held his razor in his hand, repeating:
"A wedding-eve! It is very cruel to fatigue oneself so at such a time,
is it not, my dear bride?"
The bride did not reply, but made a slight grimace, and Robineau said to
himself:
"She does not like equivocal remarks; she is chastity personified."
At last Alfred returned, and they overwhelmed him with questions.
"Was there anybody there?"
"Was it a ghost?"
"Was it a thief?"
"Was it very terrible?"
"It was nothing at all," Alfred replied; "I found the tower empty, and
everything in its place. The result is, we must conclude that the light
that was seen was but the reflection of the moon on the window panes."
"But there is no moon to-night, my dear fellow," said Robineau.
"No? In that case, it was anything you please; but, I assure you,
mesdames, that you may sleep in peace, and that no evil spirit will come
to disturb you."
They were fain to be content with what Alfred said; they noticed,
however, that he was much less cheerful than before he went to the
tower; but he persisted in saying that he had seen nothing, and they
decided at last to return to bed,--Eudoxie complaining because she had
been awakened for nothing, Cornélie looking after Alfred to make sure
that he returned to his room, Alfred glancing sadly at Edouard,
uncertain whether or not to tell him what he had heard from the
vagabond, and Robineau brandishing his razor, as if he had sworn to
shave all the ghosts in the château.
XXV
ROBINEAU’S MARRIAGE
Alfred reflected all the rest of the night upon what the vagabond had
told him; he did not know whether he ought to disturb Edouard’s
happiness by telling him what he had learned concerning Isaure’s
conduct. Before dealing him so terrible a blow, before letting loose in
his heart all the demons of jealousy, was it not his duty to assure
himself of the truth? Alfred determined not to allow Edouard to form any
indissoluble bond until he had solved the mystery; but he did not feel
as yet the courage to afflict his friend. Moreover, that day they would
be too busy with Robineau’s wedding to have opportunity to talk together
alone.
Edouard himself had had to make a great sacrifice that day: he was not
to visit Isaure, for Robineau had entreated him not to leave the
château; he had selected him to escort his sister-in-law, for the order
of the ceremony had been arranged long before. Robineau desired that
everybody should be present; and even then he thought that there would
not be enough witnesses of his good fortune. Edouard felt that it would
be discourteous to his host to refuse to comply with his wishes; so that
he would be all day without seeing Isaure. That day would seem very,
very long to him! But, when one goes into society, one must often
sacrifice to it one’s dearest pleasures.
At ten o’clock, the whole company was to assemble for breakfast, to
which were invited as witnesses the Chevalier de Tantignac, Monsieur
Berlingue, and an old annuitant, a friend of the marquis. The three
carriages at the château, that is to say, the post-chaise, Robineau’s
char-à-bancs, and the marquis’s chariot, were to take the company to the
town, where the ceremony would take place; then they were to return to
the château, where only a few persons were invited to dinner; and there
would be no dancing in the evening, it being too vulgar.
The servants had donned their fine livery; Monsieur Férulus had had the
metal buttons sewn on his coat, and he had a piece of poetry in each
pocket. Robineau was in black from head to foot; he held himself very
stiffly and did not laugh; because his father-in-law, the marquis, had
told him that one could not have too solemn an expression on his
wedding-day; lastly, Uncle Mignon had laid in a stock of pins, which he
had concealed under the cuffs of his coat, because he thought that on a
wedding-day there would inevitably be something that would need to be
pinned.
The three guests had arrived. Alfred and Edouard, who had sacrificed
their day, would have been glad to infuse a little merriment into the
occasion; but Monsieur de la Pincerie, who had joined them in the salon,
seemed to wear an even more disagreeable expression than usual; and
Robineau, to imitate his father-in-law, assumed a melancholy or
sentimental air. They exchanged a few complimentary remarks in such a
serious tone that they seemed to have come together to follow a hearse.
However, Monsieur Berlingue had already uttered some spiteful remarks in
a low tone, and the chevalier had relieved himself of a few falsehoods,
when the ladies appeared at last.
Cornélie wore a very elaborate dress; and although she did not seem by
her expression to be seeking to attract homage, she deserved a great
deal. At sight of her, Robineau stepped back and grasped Alfred by the
arm, exclaiming:
"Mon Dieu! how dazzling she is!"
The witnesses echoed his words. Monsieur de la Pincerie stepped forward
to take his daughter’s arm; then, leading her toward Robineau, he said
to him in a majestic and almost threatening tone:
"Monsieur de la Roche-Noire, I bestow upon you a most magnificent young
lady, perfectly well-bred, and the descendant of an illustrious family.
I flatter myself that you will render yourself worthy of the honor of
this alliance. But if I should learn that my daughter was not happy,
that she had reason to complain of her husband! Corbleu! Monsieur de la
Roche-Noire, then I should have something to say to you!"
"She shall be happy, my dear father-in-law, she shall be happy, and so
shall I too, I flatter myself!" cried Robineau, who seemed to be afraid
of being whipped if he were not good. "But breakfast is awaiting us,
and all our moments are occupied."
They adjourned to the breakfast table. Eudoxie, who was determined that
some attention should be paid to her as well, had a slight attack of
hysteria while they were eating the cutlets; but it amounted to nothing,
and she warned the guests that she might have several during the day,
because a marriage ceremony caused her the greatest emotion. The
gentlemen, whose appetites were not taken away by this accident,
encouraged her by telling her that they were well provided with flasks.
Monsieur Berlingue, who had nothing in his, filled it with water; but he
declared that that would produce the same effect as ether; and the
Chevalier de Tantignac exhibited a small phial carefully bestowed in a
leather case, with the contents of which he claimed to have restored
more than twenty people to life.
Toward the end of the breakfast, Monsieur Férulus pulled a huge roll of
paper from his pocket and was preparing to read, when monsieur le
marquis said in a solemn tone:
"It is time to start for the town."
Monsieur Férulus pocketed his poetry again. Everybody rose; Robineau,
who dared not offer his hand to his future bride, before whom he
constantly kept his eyes on the floor, for fear of being dazzled too
much, allowed Edouard to escort Cornélie to the chariot, in which he
took his place with her, her father and her sister. Alfred and the three
witnesses took the char-à-bancs; and Robineau entered the post-chaise
with Uncle Mignon and Monsieur Férulus, who, as soon as he was seated in
the carriage, began to rehearse his poetry, to which only Mignon
listened, scratching his nose and showing his teeth the while.
But the post-chaise was drawn by the lame horse, and could not keep up
with the other two carriages, which went quite fast. When Robineau could
no longer see the marquis’s chariot in front of him, he cried:
"Ah! Mon Dieu! I shall be late; my bride will have to wait for me, and
that will be very disagreeable!"
"Monseigneur," said Férulus, "you may be sure that the ceremony will not
begin without you."
"Of course not; but monsieur le marquis will scold me."
"It is not our fault if our horse will not go any faster."
"That is true; Uncle Mignon, you are a witness that it is the horse’s
fault."
"Yes, yes, yes!" replied Mignon; "oh, yes! it is the horse."
"This wretched beast isn’t going to be married," said Robineau, lashing
the poor creature with all his might.
"Perhaps if he were, he would go still lamer," said Férulus in an
undertone.
"Ah! one’s wedding-day is a great day, messieurs!" said Robineau with a
sigh.
"It is a day which serves as a memento, monseigneur.--_Est pater ille
quem nuptiæ demonstrant_."
"Yes, yes, yes!" assented Mignon with a smile.
"I confess," continued Robineau, "that I thought myself stronger, more
stoical; but it is true that my bride is so ravishing--it upsets me
so--I am all of a tremble.--I beg pardon, messieurs, but let us stop a
moment, if you please."
He stopped the horse, which asked nothing better. Then he alighted and
stepped a hedge, while Monsieur Férulus observed:
"‘_Homo sum et humani a me nihil alienum puto!_’"
Robineau returned; they started off again, and he lashed the horse as
before. Férulus tried to continue his declamation, but Robineau stopped
him, saying:
"Later, my dear librarian; at dinner; I am in no condition to listen to
you now. Love and happiness produce a peculiar effect upon my senses!
You don’t know what that is; you have never married, perhaps?"
"I beg your pardon, monseigneur; I was married once, and I have had
enough of it."
"And you, Uncle Mignon, were you ever married?"
"I! no, I don’t think so. Oh, no! no! that has never happened to me."
"Ah! when one has a heart so easily touched as mine, it produces a
complete revolution. My bride is a perfect Venus, she is built like
Minerva; and when I think that to-night--I beg pardon--let us stop
again, if you please."
They stopped; Robineau alighted once more and glided behind a clump of
trees. Monsieur Férulus took a pinch of snuff, and cried:
"‘_Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque recurret!_’"
Robineau soon reappeared; they drove on, and tried to make up for lost
time by whipping the horse; but he went none the faster for it, and the
bridegroom was in despair.
"Monsieur le marquis will be terribly angry," he said; "I am sure that
they are at the mayor’s office already, and are waiting for us.
Messieurs, you are my witnesses that it is the horse’s fault."
"There is another cause, too," said Férulus to Mignon, "but we will not
mention that."
They were within a fourth of a league of Saint-Amand, when Robineau
called another halt and alighted again, crying out:
"This is really cruel! I don’t know what it means!"
"Courage, monsieur!" said Férulus: "‘_Labor improbus omnia vincit!_’"
"What on earth is the matter with him that he has to get out so often?"
Mignon asked Férulus when Robineau was out of hearing.
"The matter with him! Why, haven’t you guessed yet? Parbleu! he has a
_bilis suffusio!_ he says it’s the effect of love. At all events, if it
lasts twenty-four hours, it will put him in a very false position!"
Robineau returned, reëntered the carriage and they reached the town at
last. The bridegroom inquired for his father-in-law’s chariot, and was
told that for more than half an hour, the bride, her relatives, and the
whole company had been waiting for him at the mayor’s office, and that
they had already sent back two messengers to find out what could have
become of him.
Robineau drove toward the mayor’s office, lashing his horse and crying:
"What will they say to me? perhaps monsieur le marquis feels insulted!
And my bride! suppose that she should be angry with me! fortunately my
friends are with her."
They arrived at the mayor’s office. The marquis was pacing the main hall
with an angry expression; the young men were chatting with the ladies;
Monsieur Berlingue had already made several epigrams upon the
bridegroom’s delay; the old annuitant did not utter a word, he saw in
the future only the repast that he was to enjoy; and the Chevalier de
Tantignac observed, to pacify Monsieur de la Pincerie:
"At the wedding of a cousin of mine, the bridegroom kept us waiting five
minutes only; but when he arrived his betrothed had married another man,
to teach him to be more prompt in the future."
But Robineau appeared, followed by his two companions.
"Monsieur de la Roche-Noire," cried the marquis, tapping the floor with
his cane, "do you know that it isn’t decent to keep people like us
waiting?"
"My dear father-in-law, it isn’t----"
"Whom do you think you are marrying? Do you imagine that you are
marrying a mere plebeian?"
"No, certainly not, monsieur le marquis; but I----"
"But you deserve that I should not bestow my daughter’s hand upon you,
to teach you to keep us baying at the moon for an hour."
"My most honored father-in-law, here are my witnesses. Ask your brother
and Monsieur Férulus, and they will tell you that if I did not arrive
earlier it was not for lack of desire to do so."
"That is very true," said Férulus; "it was not the desire that was
lacking."
"It was our horse’s fault entirely," continued Robineau; "it was he who
defeated our impatience."
"Yes, yes," said Mignon, "it was the horse and--a _bilis suffu_----"
Robineau trod upon Mignon’s foot, and bruised two corns, to keep him
quiet; on the contrary, it made him shriek like one possessed; but
nobody listened to him, and they proceeded to the civil ceremonies,
during which the bridegroom seemed decidedly ill at ease, which
condition was attributed to excitement and joy. Then they left the
mayor’s office and reëntered the carriages to go to the church, although
it was only two steps away; but it would not have been seemly to have
arrived there on foot. But the bridegroom did not enter his carriage; he
disappeared on leaving the mayor’s office, and they arrived at the
church without him. There monsieur le marquis noticed that his
son-in-law was absent again, and as the church was filled with people,
and as in a small town a wedding is a great event, Monsieur de la
Pincerie was furious with Robineau, who had spoiled the triumphal entry,
and compelled the ceremony to be suspended.
"Where is he, where is he now?" cried the marquis, while Cornélie
glanced over the crowd, saying:
"Why, this is inconceivable! it is absolutely indecent! to keep us
waiting twice in succession! If the affair had not gone so far, I would
break it all off!"
"Why did you leave him?" Monsieur de la Pincerie asked his brother
Mignon and Férulus.
"We did not leave him, it was he who left us, saying: ‘Go on, I will
overtake you.’"
"But what the deuce can he have to do at the very moment of his
wedding?"
Mignon scratched his nose and Férulus compressed his lips.
"Love has turned his brain," said Alfred.
"Monsieur, the proprieties and etiquette should go before love. Corbleu!
If I had not formed the plan of marrying my daughter--But he doesn’t
come! he cannot say this time that it was the horse that detained him."
At last Robineau appeared, flushed and perspiring and gasping for
breath; he glided to the side of his bride and his father-in-law; the
latter seized his hand and squeezed it fiercely, saying in his ear:
"Monsieur, you will give me satisfaction after the ceremony."
Robineau no longer knew where he was; luckily for him, the contracting
parties were summoned to the altar. He walked thither with Cornélie; the
ceremony began, and while it was in progress, Monsieur de la Pincerie,
who had become calmer, reflected that it would not be proper to
challenge his son-in-law on the very day of his wedding.
The ceremony was at an end. Cornélie had become Madame de la
Roche-Noire, and Robineau had ceased to be a bachelor. They received the
compliments, the congratulations, sincere or insincere, of the persons
who had come to witness the nuptial benediction; then they left the town
and returned to the château, still in the same order as in the former
journey; but Robineau did not stop the carriage once.
It was four o’clock when they reached the château. The ladies went at
once to their apartments to change their dresses; for women who go much
into society, who attend many fêtes and balls and ceremonies, spend a
large part of their life in dressing and undressing.
About a dozen persons who were invited to the dinner soon joined the
company already assembled at the château. At each new arrival, monsieur
le marquis took Robineau by the hand and went forward to meet those who
entered the salon, saying solemnly:
"I present my son-in-law to you."
Thereupon the newcomers would congratulate the marquis, then Robineau,
and after looking about to see if there were anyone else to
congratulate, would take seats in the salon. But it seemed as if all
those people had agreed beforehand not to smile, and as if it were the
general opinion in the provinces that it was bad form to be cheerful on
a wedding-day. So that it was necessary to try to kill time by talking
upon insignificant subjects with people who were able to discuss nothing
else. Alfred did what he could to enliven the conversation; but he
himself was disturbed, and the remembrance of his experience in the
tower occupied his mind more than Robineau’s marriage. Edouard, too,
tried to make himself agreeable, but he cursed under his breath the
length of the day.